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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26807236">the shadow of a dream</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_gently_faded_rainbow/pseuds/a_gently_faded_rainbow'>a_gently_faded_rainbow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Asexual Character, M/M, american teen desperately pretends they are british and says joggers, cried while writing this cheers, oral sex (mentioned), the implicit trust of not drinking tea someone has prepared for you</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:29:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,224</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26807236</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_gently_faded_rainbow/pseuds/a_gently_faded_rainbow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon and Martin have morning feelings and the author is unable to write a proper synopsis for a fic that isn’t even 1500 words but they’re posting anyway. Validate me and I will give you a weird per name.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the shadow of a dream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i love you all!! i’m sorry the worlds on fire. have some more fucking safe house fics. also! jon is a bit sad at the start but over all this is very soft and gentle and respectful of his asexuality.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He gets to have this, fucking deserves it. Jon has to tell himself that everytime he wakes up to the smell of bacon filling the little cottage, or with one of Martin’s heavy arms slung over his side like a seatbelt in the face of certain doom. Really, that’s what it is. This is a pit stop on their   way to fixing the world, or more likely, dying. So when he wakes up to neither thing, it is still more than enough. The bed is still faintly warm, still smells like Martin’s aftershave, and a bit like sweat, which Jon makes a face at. </p>
<p>He rolls his shoulders out, a little reluctant to leave their bed. It is theirs, not in the way it was at first, when they were just sharing it because Martin insisted, wouldn’t let Jon sleep on the couch. No, it’s theirs in the way where there’s faint indents in the shape of their bodies, even if it’s just Jon imagining them. Theirs like couples share a bed, he supposes. </p>
<p>Not really. Jon had blurted it out over tea a few days after they’d had the whole ‘what are we and what does it even mean to love in the face of unimaginable horror’ conversation. Just simple, maybe too much. “I’m asexual Martin.” Martin, sweet bumbling fool, had stumbled over his words until he finally just took Jon’s hand in his own, squeezing in a way that felt like he held his heart instead. “That’s alright. Kissing is okay?” It hurt almost, how gentle he’d been about it. Jon tried so hard not to see how Martin felt, but in that moment, he knew that he could’ve said no and Martin would’ve died before kissing him again. He could’ve said no and nothing at all would happen to him. “Kissing is more than okay. Can I finish my tea first?” So they aren’t fucking in the bed, essentially.</p>
<p>He didn’t used to remember like that, memories like perfect prisms. Another lovely side effect of the Eye. He runs a hand through his hair in a semi successful attempt to undo the bed head and pulls on the shirt and joggers he’d discarded by the bed. They don’t do laundry as often as they ought to. Slips the mind. Maybe he only remembers the important things. Anything to do with Martin, or Georgie, Melanie, Tim. He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood when he thinks about Sasha, and stops doing that. He opens the door at the same time as Martin and they both stammer awkwardly when they finally manage to actually open it, staring at each other from opposite sides of the doorway. He isn’t paying enough attention, because he can tell Martin’s just been wanking, and it must show on his face. They apologize at the same time too, sorrys that carry history. </p>
<p>Martin shakes his head. “No, no, it’s alright. I didn’t mean to-it wasn’t about you-I mean it was, but not...like that.” He’s blushing fiercely. </p>
<p>“Martin, really, it’s fine. I mean, I’m the one who wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have seen that. Breakfast?” </p>
<p>They go to the kitchen and he tries not to think about it, and certainly not to ask questions. There are so many things left unexplained. It isn’t his business, he’s just making tea. It isn’t his business, he’s just buttering the toast. It’s none of your fucking business Jon, ask Martin if he’d like sugar. No, you know he doesn’t, you’ve made him chamomile, which is stupid because it’s morning and he’ll be all cross but drink it anyway, won’t say anything even. </p>
<p>“Was it a dream?” Damnit, he’s asked a question then. </p>
<p>It isn’t a compulsion at least, because Martin’s able to chew and swallow his toast before answering. “Yes. I didn’t think you’d want to know.” </p>
<p>“Only if you’d like me too. Would you...I’m wondering about the contents of the dream.” There. No chance of compulsion. </p>
<p>Martin doesn’t look particularly comforted, but neither is he upset. Probably. Hard to tell. “Just your standard sex dream I suppose. Us, if that makes you feel better.” </p>
<p>“It does.” </p>
<p>“Ah. Well. Do you want details?” Martin takes a sip of his tea and there’s just the momentary twitch of his temple telling Jon he really doesn’t like the chamomile. Damn. </p>
<p>“If you’d like to give them.” </p>
<p>“You haven’t compelled me. I was just sucking your cock. I mean, not that that’s not special. Just nothing I haven’t thought about before.” </p>
<p>The fact that it really does come without compulsion makes Jon a bit soft. He takes Martin’s hand, almost a mirror of their previous conversation. </p>
<p>Martin keeps going. “You told me I was good when you came, and you pulled my hair, just a bit. That’s when I woke up. Have you noticed dreams getting a bit cinematic lately?” </p>
<p>“I suspect that’s our frequent exposure with the Spiral combined with a period of relative safety. Would you like me to call you good more often?” </p>
<p>“Jon, it really was just a dream. I don’t need any of that.” </p>
<p>“I know. I’m hardly offering you my cock right now. That doesn’t appeal to me, but I’d really like telling you how much I love you in a way that you understand.”</p>
<p>Martin screws his face up while he thinks. It used to annoy Jon to no end, but now he just wants to smooth the wrinkles out and tell him not to worry. </p>
<p>“I do think I’d like that. I don’t want it to feel forced though. Just whatever comes naturally. The way you love me is more than I could’ve ever hoped for.” </p>
<p>“Martin Blackwood, you deserve more than an idiotic academic who has to ask how to love you best. You ought to hope for perfection and hold me to it.” Jon’s gone a bit fierce. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I happen to love my imperfect idiotic academic. Would it be okay for me to kiss you?” </p>
<p>Jon gets up from the table to kiss Martin, doesn’t even complain about his morning breath. The feeling of Martin’s guitar callused hand through Jon’s thin shirt is distracting, lovely as he leans into it and feels the thumb caress his side. Martin’s a clumsy kisser, but his hands more than make up for it. Jon pulls away first, smiles at Martin’s slightly lost eyes. He brushes stray curls from his eyes.</p>
<p>“Good?” </p>
<p>Martin nods. “Very.” </p>
<p>“In the future, if you’re...you know,” Jon makes a crude gesture with his hand, “I could be there with you. Hold your hand, maybe kiss you.” </p>
<p>“That wouldn’t be awkward for you?” </p>
<p>“Not anymore than waking up with your dick poking my back.” </p>
<p>“Fuck, have I really? I didn’t know, I really am sorry Jon.” </p>
<p>“Only teasing love. I meant it’s not awkward. I just don’t really think about it like that I suppose.” </p>
<p>“Right. Well, good. I’d like that.” Martin pauses and stares morosely at his tea cup. “Jon, do you mind terribly if I don’t drink this? I’d like some caffeine I think.” </p>
<p>“I’d love that.” </p>
<p>Martin gives him a strange look and Jon doesn’t have the strength to explain. Something about the sort of casual trust makes him even softer. At this rate he’s practically a melty puddle of emotions. Horrible Martin and his horrible lovableness.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Writing playlist: </p>
<p>Pocket full of gold: American Authors<br/>When I get there: Big Wild<br/>Some Kind of Love: The Killers<br/>For the day: Canyon City<br/>Arrival: dryhope<br/>You’re the last thing on my mind: Aron Wright<br/>There’s something in the water: Rory Webley<br/>Always in reverse: City Girl<br/>Small Victories: The Lemon Twigs</p></blockquote></div></div>
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